


trinkets from the worst days of our lives

by Elzie (gallaxygay)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Canon Universe, Character Study, Eventual Happy Ending, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallaxygay/pseuds/Elzie
Summary: And so, fucked up things happen. Lance keeps reminders of those fucked up things on his desk, picture frames and rocks and bracelets and pressed plants and one, very alive plant. The trinkets are pressure to do good, more just not-bad, and they're the reason that he can feel not-bad about so callously throwing his teenage years into the wind in service of the universe.





	trinkets from the worst days of our lives

Sometimes fucked up things happen. 

Once, months ago, Lance wandered through what used to be a city. The counsellors had taken the time to show the Paladins photos (Lance doesn't know if they were called photos, it didn't matter anyway) of what the city looked like before - vibrant trees, moulded to be towers and whose leaves touched the clouds. The photos betrayed the sort of bustle to the city that it seems all cities share, with the people in bright clothes, yellows and oranges and reds - people who called the sunset the start of each new day. 

The counsellors spoke through translators, and they said the city used to be great and to please come and help. They spoke with a wistfulness that betrayed a deep, profound grief. 

Lance spends much of his time visiting planets and deciding what and what not to trust. He trusted the grief of the counsellors. 

It was hot when the Paladins first entered into the planet's atmosphere. Hot enough that Blue had begun to malfunction as they'd neared the city. She was never meant for the scorching heat of a dying star, and so Lance had landed her a short distance away from the city, and a long distance from his team. He'd joked about it, said he didn't mind and that the walk would do him some good. 

Lance was drenched in his own sweat within minutes of exiting his lion. Pidge said something about Lance needing exercise. He'd laughed about that. Shiro hadn't, and that felt like consolation. 

The walk was, in fact, alright. He never minded the heat, but growing up somewhere hot didn't diminish the way that the ground bled warmth. It wasn't bad - or perhaps it just wasn't the worst. 

(It occasionally becomes difficult to distinguish between good things and bad things and things that aren't the best and things that aren't the worst. Lance made peace with death just days after meeting Allura, it messes things up, to have good and death in a life that is very much just black and white.) 

Lance walked into what used to be the city alone. There was just one road, with just one tree at its end. Shiro had told him in a private message that the rest of the team was waiting for him with the remaining counsellors at the end of the road, and that the walk should only be ten minutes more. Shiro's voice got lower, then, and he said not to look around too much. 

Charcoal stood tall like towers. The sun had begun to set since Lance had landed Blue, the new day beginning, and yet the charcoal once-trees stood tall still, black lines cut against the yellows and oranges and reds of the sky. 

His boots click-clacked against the black stone. 

Lance felt distinctly alone. And then he felt less alone after walking further into the charcoal forest. Metal pieces decorated the landscape and the sun picked out the glints of silver from yellow and orange and red sand. A particularly large silver piece of metal pointed Lance toward a picture frame, though perhaps not by that name, with the digital photo still intact. It lay amongst other charred belongings just at the foot of a charcoal tower, as if it had been tossed from windows and on to the street. The people in the photo were smiling and the ground was covered in green foliage. 

There was something distinctly sad about it. He put the frame in his backpack. Looking back, that could have gone badly but it seemed like such a misdeed to let the memory of those three, happy people waste away into the heat of a dying sun. He couldn't help but to want the planet to live on in some fashion, even while walking towards a meeting discussing its end. 

He drank a bit of water and then continued on his way. 

A strong gust of wind blew over a charcoal tower. It fell with a sharp crack. Lance was forced to climb over it. His suit was drenched in ashes, more black than blue. 

Lance smiled at the counsellors, dripping in sweat. It had felt artificial, and when the counsellors had smiled back Lance was forced to blink back tears. 

And so, fucked up things happen. Lance keeps reminders of those fucked up things on his desk, picture frames and rocks and bracelets and pressed plants and one, very alive plant. The trinkets are pressure to do good, and more than just not-bad, and they're the reason that he can feel not-bad about so callously throwing his teenage years into the wind in service of the universe. 

Some days he lies on his bed and looks at the photograph with green foliage and thinks that he has the weight of universes on his shoulders, and he's already let more than a couple worlds slip off the edge. 

Lance still sometimes wishes he could have gone to prom, or something. Not that it matters, because he's pretty sure that time passes differently so far away from earth - which is something he refuses to think about with any real depth - but that doesn't stop Lance from wishing about it occasionally. Things probably could have been different and better, but everything could have been different, and dwelling on it only ever worsens the bitter knowledge of everything that could have been. 

Over the coms Hunk says, "You alright, Lance?" 

Lance hums noncommittally. He thinks his ribs are broken, it's not that bad. 

There are some wins that feel more like loses. 

_This is one._

"Are you hurt?" asks Shiro. 

Lance shakes his head, offers his screen a small smile. Then, "I'm fine." 

"Right," says Pidge. "You're fine. Okay." 

The people of this planet dress in green. They stand outside their homes, far removed from the wreckage, and from above they create fields of homelessness, and sway like grass in the wind. And Lance knows that sometimes, it's better to let one or two or twenty-something houses perish than to sacrifice people, but that doesn't diminish the cries of an anguished populous. Homes broken and ablaze. 

Then Lance says, "I want to go down and meet the people." 

Allura sighs. "Lance," she says. "These people have just gone through  _war_." 

"I need to," he presses on. "I can go alone." 

Allura's face pops up on his screen. She shakes her head and says, "No, you can't go alone. We can't risk-" 

"I'll go with him," says Keith. "Tonight, after we've been in the healing pods." 

The coms fall silent. 

"Thanks," says Lance. 

"Right," says Keith. 

Lance's mouth twists. He turns off his camera, puts his head in his hands, and lets Blue fly. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading !!!! leave a comment/kudos if you liked it and i'll love you forever !!!
> 
> if you wanna come talk to me ~~ in depth, my tumblr is @lancelovely
> 
> (also like.... i hope it doesn't seem like allura is too harsh right now yikes lol)


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